Category Archives: the language of science fiction

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Free for a short period Lightspeed Frontier: Kicking the Future by Adam Corres Amateur media archaeologist and space explorer, Exia, travels light years from Earth in her own space ship to record old and lost TV and radio signals from … Continue reading →

The year is 2078. The former United States of America is a bleak and fading memory for the few citizens of New America. Nearly five years after his wife was taken to a birthing camp by Secans, New America’s mercenaries, … Continue reading →

WORLDS OF WONDER by Roxanne Bland I recently read about a planet orbiting Proxima Centauri, a star nearest to our Sun. It’s been dubbed Proxima b. About 1.3 times the mass of Earth—a guesstimate—the planet sits in the “Goldilocks” or … Continue reading →

WITH MORE ADVANCED AI CREATED The world will change irreversibly! Following on soon from the remarkably Smart Devices we are enjoying(!) today, even more amazing products are on the way for the public and industry. Your next, or perhaps your … Continue reading →

Like any skill worth mastering, the
writing of science fiction surely takes a lifetime to master. That’s assuming
you’re one of the few who masters it at all. Realizing that, I knew I would
face countless challenges as I penned my first novel-length science fiction
work, Green Light Delivery. Because
of all the sci-fi I’ve read, I should have been able to predict many of these
challenges. Still, it turned out to be a very different view from the active
side of the creative process.

One of the most interesting issues that
faces a sci-fi author is that of language. The issue presents itself as a
complex web of decisions for the writer, based on her intended audience, the
type of sci-fi she’s writing, and her own background and level of obsession.

There will be serious decisions to make about language, unless you write
contemporary or near-future sci-fi. This issue can manifest itself in a number
of ways, depending on the specifics of your story. Here are a few you should
expect to mull over:

1. If the story takes place on Earth,
but in the distant future, (a) will everyone still speak our current languages,
whether it makes sense or not (Planet of
the Apes), or (b) will you go through the massive effort of showing
linguistic developments (A Clockwork
Orange; and be aware that Anthony Burgess was a trained linguist).

2. If the story takes place off Earth, but
involves humans, how will the humans communicate with the other species? (a) Will
the aliens have pain-stakingly learned English? (b) Will the human stumble by
in the alien language?

The choice of (a) and (b) leads to
another level of decision:

(i) You could craft an actual alien
language. (Please refer to caveat above, regarding linguistic skills. If you
are an author who struggles to comprehend its
versus it’s, or if you struggled in
Spanish 101, then inventing a grammatically consistent, credible language is
not the right choice for you. Almost nobody can do this well.)

(ii) Or perhaps you’ll simply make up a
small vocabulary or list of common phrases you can use to imply the alien
tongue, and then switch to English. That can be a useful way to imply a
language, and remind a reader that characters aren’t speaking English.

And then there’s the option for those
who don’t want to deal with the different languages at all. (c) Offer some sort
of universal translation device (This is hardest to pull off, unless you’re doing
Douglas Adams-style broad comedy or writing for Doctor Who.)

3. If, as is true for my novel Green Light Delivery, your story takes
place in an alternative universe where there never has been such a thing as
English, you face different problems. You want your reader to assume that English
is standing in for the actual language of the planet/solar system. But what can
you do to show that this isn’t really English? I decided to invent proper names
(both of characters and places) and common nouns that didn’t sound like
English, and therefore reminded readers the they weren’t in Kansas anymore.

So, the following sentence, although
largely newly-coined words, can make sense:

Webrid
is a Yeril with a bnarli in his forehead.

If you haven’t read the book, you can
still guess that Webrid is the name
of a male character, Yeril is some
sort of category (tribe? region? species? school affiliation?) and bnarli is a thing that fits in his head
somehow. Keeping the word “forehead” is important in this example. It gives the
reader a familiar point of reference.

Invented words, introduced one at a time and used consistently, are easy to slide into the reader’s vocabulary, just as in any other genre a reader can be expected to learn and remember the names of new characters.

Webrid is a carter, like his mother and grandfather before him. It’s not glamorous work, but it mostly pays the bills, and it gives him time to ogle the sexy women on the streets of Bexilla’s capital. Mostly, he buys and sells small goods and does the occasional transport run for a client.Then he gets mugged by a robot.Now, with a strange green laser implanted in his skull and a small fortune deposited in his bank account, Webrid has to make the most difficult delivery of his life. He doesn’t know who his client is, or what he’s carrying, but he knows that a whole lot of very dangerous people are extremely interested in what’s in his head. Literally. And they’ll do whatever it takes to get it.With the help of some truly alien friends, a simple carter will journey across worlds to deliver his cargo. And hopefully keep his head in the process.

Anne E. Johnson is based in Brooklyn and has published over thirty short stories ina variety of genres and for both adults and children.

Her first science fiction novel, Green Light Delivery, was published in June, 2012, by Candlemark and Gleam. She also writes novels for tweens. Her other novels include Ebenezer’s Locker and Trouble at the Scriptorium.